


my mind is tired but my heart’s too stubborn to let go

by harscrow



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Angst and light Porn, F/M, Laurel's POV, Lots of tears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-17
Updated: 2016-11-17
Packaged: 2018-08-31 13:40:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8580676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harscrow/pseuds/harscrow
Summary: As Laurel shuts her apartment’s door and she turns to face Frank again, she doesn’t know what to feel anymore. He stands there, crucified by guilt like she’s never seen him before. Blaming alcohol for the way her own head’s spinning at the sight of him would just be a coward’s lie.‘I’ve missed you. I love you. I’m carrying your child.’ It’s all on the tip of her tongue. Those words are fighting so hard to come alive she has to force herself to look away from him. He doesn’t deserve to hear those things, he doesn’t, he doesn’t./// Or, a missing moment from 3x08. Frank's spending the night at Laurel's. ///





	

**Author's Note:**

> I hope the Nonny who asked me for this fic is satisfied, and I hope y'all will find this somehow readable.  
> Please be kind if there are typos or something, cause I got no beta rn and English is only my second language.

As Laurel shuts her apartment’s door and she turns to face Frank again, she doesn’t know what to feel anymore. He stands there, crucified by guilt like she’s never seen him before. Blaming alcohol for the way her own head’s spinning at the sight of him would just be a coward’s lie.

‘ _I’ve missed you. I love you. I’m carrying your child_.’ It’s all on the tip of her tongue. Those words are fighting so hard to come alive she has to force herself to look away from him. He doesn’t deserve to hear those things, he doesn’t, he doesn’t.

“Laurel…” He says, contrite, and for a foolish moment she believes him capable of reading her mind.

Panic takes over for a few seconds, until she slowly exhales and remembers that she can still have her secrets. She can keep things from him, as he did to her. “You stay for tonight only. I can’t do this.” She decides, as her fingers run nervously through her hair.

“ ‘course.” It’s Frank’s compliant response. He’s struggling with demons louder and bigger than Laurel can imagine, but she sees the pain wearing on him nonetheless.

She wants to ask so many questions, yell so many curses, but part of her is begging for softness too. Part of Laurel – the same that convinced her to shelter the bad man she’s in love with – is aching to touch him, be held by him. “I hate you.” She sighs, without even noticing. Her hand’s quick to cover her own mouth, before any other lie slips out without her consent.

“Legit, by now.”

Somehow the doleful way he acknowledges his own fault pierces Laurel’s chest. She fooled herself into thinking that was what she wanted all along, for him to take the blame of the two of them falling apart. But they never actually did, they’re there, _they’ve always been_ , and her screwing Wes doesn’t even change anything. ‘This is so wrong.’ She realizes, already knowing this is going to be a long, painful night.

“Never meant to hurt you, I need you to know that.”

That brings tears to her tired eyes, a sight Frank is unable to stand, as he lowers his gaze while clenching his fists. “I’m sorry. I really am.”

“Can you please stop doing this?” Hers it’s a plea. “Can you just-“ ‘ _Explain. Shut up. Come here. Go away.’_ Her own indecision is so frustrating she collapses on herself, a whine cracking her open.

His arms surround her as she dreamt so many times of, and suddenly all she knows is the warm stillness of his body. He’s so strong and smells of leather and escape, and she can have him, she must have him, just for tonight. She clutches at him, burying her face into his neck and breathing him in. So much, so hard she’s soon gasping and sobbing and he’s hugging her so tight she wouldn’t mind crumbling like that.

_ ‘I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you.’ _ She says it a thousand times in her mind, feeling the sound of it making its way through her lungs and die, and die, and die. Unspoken words fall back through her throat to rest shattered in her heart, her fingertips digging desperately into Frank’s pecs.

She blinks, exhausted, as her mouth lingers on his, and Frank’s breath becomes her own. The kiss is gentle, almost impalpable, as if they’re hanging on the smeared threshold of a reverie and too much force could break it all down.

Laurel feels trembling hands clinging on to her pants, and she opens her eyes on a man who’s silently fallen to his knees. “Frank…” She whispers, and can’t stop her fingers from caressing his buzz cut.

“You’re so good to me, Laurel. You’ve always been. I am- I owe you so much.” His voice’s broken and there’s sorrow in his eyes as they rise to meet hers for a moment. 

She doesn’t know what to say, what to do. She can literally feel her resentment being locked away, so far into the depths of her soul that she can’t remember why it was there in the first place. Laurel lets go of the steering wheel and she’s off the road without a single remorse, crashing into the wall of self-indulgence.

The heat of Frank’s prayers murmured against her thigh makes her core quiver, and her resistance hang by a thread. “I beg you, forgive me. Just this once, before I’m gone. Just this once.” He’s pleading, and tears stream down his face as much as down hers.

Laurel pulls him closer, caressing his nape, sighing at his hands tentatively grabbing the edge of her pants. “Yes.” She sobs, salt on her lips. _‘Yes, I forgive you. Yes, I love you. Yes, take me, take me, take me.’_

“Yes.” She says, again, when Frank kisses her belly and her own limbs start shaking in expectation. Her skin gets exposed in a smooth, slow motion, and she can immediately feel the guilt gathering on the tip of Frank’s tongue mixing up with her wetness. She bends over, her nails digging into his shoulders to find some balance as her cheeks starts flushing from pleasure. He erases her mortality just like that, makes her feel a merciful, powerful goddess whose shrine he’s hopelessly devoted to.

She’s crying, for the ecstasy in her body is fighting with the torment of uncertainty inflicted on them. She wants Frank, all of him, all his darkness, all their fucked up emotions stirred together. And she wants to birth his child, let him cradle a baby with eyes grey as their father’s. She knows now that she can’t go to the clinic she saw on that leaflet. She’s been waiting for a sign, begging for him to come back and be it. However, she’s already learned that in life the line between what you want and what you get is actually an unsurmountable wall.

Her lungs are burning by the time she finally moans his name, louder than her previous gasps. “Frank-“ She calls him, breaking down violently over the way he’s sucking at her most sensitive spot all the way through her apex. She feels so good, a hot dripping mess throbbing between her legs as he fondles her hipbones while nibbling at her labia.

Dizziness prevails over her, and Laurel falters – sloppy and flushed and panting – right into the arms of a killer.

~

“I’m with Wes. I can’t do this anymore.”

In the embracing darkness of her bedroom, she can feel Frank stilling next to her laying figure, close enough to radiate warmth but not to touch her. “Guess the Puppy’s giving you something I couldn’t, then.”

“Truth. He’s giving me the truth.” She whispers, hands regretfully concealing the innocent life growing inside of her.

“I gave you that too, it just wasn’t what you wanted to hear.”

He may be right, but now’s too late. Laurel turns her back on him, curling up on herself, as if that could ever be enough to shield a woman’s heart from feelings.


End file.
